


Pumpkin Eater

by rabidchild67



Series: Wangst [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Crack, M/M, Talking Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's dick shares some hard truths with him. I can't believe I just typed that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pumpkin Eater

**Author's Note:**

> It helps if you envision Peter's dick speaking in the voice of [Jackie Mason](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jackie_Mason). Many thanks to Elrhiarhodan for the quick beta and double-check on my Yiddish phrases.

“Hey Neal,” Peter called out from within his office. Neal was passing his office door after a quick meeting in the adjoining conference room with Jones and a few other agents.

Neal stopped in his doorway, an expectant look on his face. “Yes, Peter?”

“Good work on the PRI Financial case. I know mortgage fraud isn’t your favorite area to deal with.”

 “Thanks.”

Peter leaned over his desk, spoke in a low voice. “Can I come over later? I haven’t seen you in a week and El’s got this business thing.”

Neal took a step forward into the room. “Sure,” he said, a slight smile on his face, his ears turning just a little pink. “Sure. 8:00?”

Peter returned the smile. “8:00.” He watched his lover as he moved down the steps into the bullpen, kept his eyes on him on his way to his desk. He returned to the statistics report he’d been reviewing, a smile still on his lips.

“ _Oy gevalt_ , there goes trouble,” said a muffled voice.

“Not now…” Peter muttered, shifting in his seat.

”If not now, then when?”

“I’d prefer never.” Peter was trying to speak without moving his lips and finding it difficult. He pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and pretended to be on a call.

His dick, who’d started the conversation, shifted inside his pants, tenting them slightly at the crotch. “You’re gonna be that way? After all I’ve done for you, _bubbeleh_?”

Peter glared at the bulge in his pants and silently thanked the gods of office design that his desk was made of solid metal and not one of those flimsy kinds they had up on 23. “And what would that be, exactly?” he asked sarcastically.

“ _Nu_ , whose idea was it to ask Elizabeth out?”

“Stan and Lester,” Peter said, referring to his balls.

“Yeah, but would they speak up? No, I had to. Those dummies.”

“Look, I’m kind of busy here, plus I’m _in the office_. Did you have a point you wanted to make?”

“Ok, ok,” Peter’s dick said, sounding aggrieved. “I don’t want to be a buttinski, but I want to talk to you about that young man.”

“Neal? What about him?”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing with that nice _boychick_? I just don’t think it’s a good idea the way you’re carrying on.”

Peter sighed heavily. “First of all, I have asked you time and again to stop speaking Yiddish. Just because you are circumcised doesn’t mean you are Jewish.”

“Feh,” his dick interrupted.

“Secondly,” Peter continued, cutting him off, “Neal is a consenting adult, and so am I, and Elizabeth is OK with our seeing each other, so I don’t really see a reason for your concern.”

Peter’s dick twitched around in his pants. Peter knew it was angry. “You don’t see a reason. You. Don’t see a reason?” it fairly shouted. Peter noticed it had lost its accent. “Well, how’s this for a reason, Mr. Special Agent Peter Burke? You are that young man’s handler. This means you are not only responsible _for_ him, but _to_ him. What do you think happens if that _alter cocker_ Hughes finds out about your little office romance? Have you thought of that?”

Peter straightened in his seat. “No,” he replied quietly.

“Of course you haven’t. They’ll lock him away again, you know they will. And send you to Siberia, or worse: Jersey. And why? Because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. How would that make you feel?”

“Terrible.”

“Terrible.”

His dick’s words hit home, hard. His relationship with Neal had started like a tornado – sudden,  inexorable, relentless. At first they had both acknowledged it as lust, heat, fucking dirty fun. But lately, lately it had developed into something more, Peter knew. He saw the way Neal looked at him, liked the way Neal looked at him. Maybe he looked at Neal the same way.

“But I’m in love with him,” he whispered finally.

His dick made a tsking sound. “I thought as much. Do you love him enough to leave him?”

Peter recoiled. “I…I…can’t.”

“You at least need to talk to him about it, Peter,” his dick said quietly, settling back into its customary position, nestled between his right thigh and his balls. “It’s not fair to him.”

“You’re right. Ah, Jeez.” Peter leaned forward, rested his elbows on his desk, rubbing the back of his neck. This was a conversation he did not want to have, but in the back of his mind, he had to admit to himself, the issue had always been there, hanging over his relationship with Neal like the Sword of Damocles. “I’ll talk to him tonight.”

His dick took pity on him. “Ach, _bubbeleh_ , it’ll be OK. _A bi gezunt_.”

“Oh, shut up.”

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
